


Wedded Bliss

by blueelvewithwings



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU where Meredith won, Amnesia, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Meredith is Viscount here, Or straight out slavery I guess, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Threat of Tranquility, and Petrice is Grand Cleric, no one is really being made Tranquil though, references to slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/pseuds/blueelvewithwings
Summary: In a world where Meredith won the battle at the Gallows and is Viscount, Fenris is being married off to someone he had thought to be dead. Only that someone is very different than he remembers them to be.





	1. Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multichapter fic, and I sincerely hope that I'll be able to update somewhat regularly. Maybe I'll get to writing enough to develop a regular schedule, but I wouldn't hope on it too hard. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it~  
> Edit: I fixed the Aveline problem! She's now alive and well~

He stood facing the altar, and he could hear the doors open behind him. So this was it. They really had found someone. He was going to get married now.  
The new law had only existed for a few years, but it was being enforced almost with brutality. It had been one of the first things the new Viscount had done. It was like this now: If by the end of the year that one turned thirty one had not found a spouse, the city council would find a spouse for you instead. And it was not just any arrangement, either. One of the two was given away into the other's care, to love and cherish and obey them. And of course, seeing as the new Viscount was none other than Knight-Commander Meredith, it often happened that apostates were given away to Templars, never to be seen again. Or to be seen again later, looking hollow and subdued.  
Fenris never did understand how the people of Kirkwall could have elected that monster as their new Viscount.  
And now it was his turn. According to the judgment of the city council he had reached his thirtieth year by now, and he had yet to find a spouse, so a spouse had been chosen for him now. And today, he was going to marry them. 

As it was expected of him for his own marriage, he had made sure he was presentable. Which, in this case, meant he had cleaned his clothes and did not carry his sword. He had given it to Aveline for the moment being, so it was close by in case he needed it. One could never know.  
He curled his toes into the cold stone of the Chantry floor and looked up at the statue of Andraste, wondering what his life would be like from now on. Who would he have at his side? Would they get along? He would not know until after the ceremony. They were supposed to hold hands, but not look at one another until they had said their vows. Fenris did not quite understand why, it was not like he could have turned down whoever he was going to marry anyway. 

He heard muffled noises and gasps coming from behind him, and then the heavy doors of the Chantry were once more pushed open again. So this was it then. His spouse was coming in, and there was no going back. He thought he was hearing some noises of recognition from his friends, but it was too late now to turn and to ask, so he kept looking forward, where Grand Cleric Petrice had taken her place. Her smile looked more like a sneer as she watched whoever was coming down the aisle, and soon a bony hand slid into Fenris', clasping it weakly.  
Fenris took a deep breath, and swallowed, and then nodded at Petrice to start. He carefully squeezed his spouse's hand, just enough to give them a sign of acknowledgement. He heard Petrice going through the steps of the ceremony, but he didn't really listen. He already knew what he needed to know.  
The city was giving someone away to him, someone to take care of his house, to cook him a warm meal everyday, and in return he was expected to protect his spouse and keep them in line. As this new law was most often applied to apostate mages and Templars, it was basically a way to give mage servants to Templars, to use and abuse at their own will. Fenris did not approve.

He realised he had not paid attention enough when he realised the ceremony was drawing to a close, and they were asked to say their vows. Fenris spoke quietly, but surely, swearing to protect his spouse and to take care of them, and to give them a safe space. Once he was done and had slid a non-descript ring on the nearly skeletal hand he had been holding, a quiet voice spoke up, quivering as it promised to love and cherish their husband and to obey his every command. Shaky fingers then took his own and he watched as those skinny fingers fumbled to slide an equally non-descript ring on his own lyrium-marked finger.  
And then, just like that, it was over. He was married now, had someone to stay at his side forever. The question was if he even wanted that specific someone, but they would have to make it work now.  
With a sigh, he looked up, and almost stopped dead in his tracks. His spouse was undeniably male, extremely thin but very tall, and had a haunted and hollow look in his eyes as he looked around the Chantry, refusing to meet his husband's eyes.  
There was something awfully familiar about him, Fenris thought. He frowned a little, searching the other's face. There was the undeniable feel of magic there, maybe that was it? He just had been married off to a mage. A mage. Maybe they had run out of Templars at the moment and deemed him the next best thing? He would never know.  
„My name is Fenris“ He offered, letting go of his spouse's hand. That caused the mage to meet his eyes after all, and in the split second before he uttered his name he knew it. Those golden eyes. He would know those eyes anywhere. 

Anders. 

His Anders. He could hardly believe his eyes. He looked different, certainly, thinner, older, haunted, but still undeniably his Anders. He let out a sob and took a step forward, burying his face in his husband's chest. His husband. He couldn't believe it.

He had not hit it off well with Anders, the two of them constantly being at each other's throats and fighting. It had taken them almost three years to get to an understanding, to realise how similar they were and how easily they could actually go along.  
And from then on, things had gone so great. They had been careful at first, almost hesitant, slowly forming a budding friendship that became stronger and stronger and finally went beyond friendship and straight into a relationship.  
Being with Anders made Fenris truly happy. The mage saw so much good in him, adored him so clearly even though Fenris could still hardly see the more positive sides of himself. But in return, he adored the wonderful man as well, the way he was kind and gentle and loving, showed care to everyone and healed even the poorest, most ratty habitant of Darktown without asking for anything in retun.  
Anders showed everyone true compassion. The mage's heart was so big Fenris wondered how it could fit in the slim man's chest. And Fenris loved him for it, he loved the way he showed everyone love, and still managed to make Fenris feel special. And somehow he managed to make Fenris softer as well.  
Grumpy, broody Fenris who would normally not give people the time of the day if he didn't have any interest in talking to them started to open up more, to help around the clinic sometimes, to provide food for those in need, to shelter all those cats that his kitten-obsessed boyfriend loved so much but couldn't keep at his clinic for sanitary reasons.  
And when they fought side by side, they just knew where the other was and what he was doing, and it was almost as if they were a unit standing against their enemy, and not two individuals.

But even lovestruck as he was, Fenris had seen the negative changes in Anders as well. How he seemed to become more stressed, retreated within himself more and more. How he got more irritable and seemed to converse with Justice more and more. He knew that he was still working for the Mage Underground and did everything to see that his kind was being treated better, but everyone could plainly see that the situation for the mages – especially in Kirkwall – only got worse and worse.  
He wanted to help, to see things through to whatever end Anders (and/or Justice) had in mind, but Anders wouldn't tell him, wouldn't let him in on his plans or thoughts.  
So that meant that when the revelation came, Fenris was not prepared for it in the least.  
He saw the Chantry explode, but he could not wrap his head around that for a long, long moment. And then, he just saw red. How had Anders not told him about this? How had he shut Fenris out of this? Did he not know how much he meant to the elf?  
In his anger, he had spoken up, made more angry by how resigned Anders was sitting on that crate, ready to play the martyr, to rip Fenris' heart out as surely as Fenris ripped hearts out of the chests of his enemies. The mage wants to die, he had said, so let him.  
Hawke, Maker bless his heart, had not listened, had instead told Anders to stand up with them and fight. And Anders had, without ever once glancing at Fenris.  
No one had expected the fight to go as it did though, for the statues to come alive and push them into a corner, for Cullen and Thrask to be slain, the only Templars that had stood with them.  
Hawke and his group had been lucky enough to make it out with their lives, to retreat to nurse their wounds while Meredith was celebrated as the new saviour of the city who had rescued the people from the evil, evil mages.  
And Anders.... He had never seen Anders again, had assumed him to be dead, slain in battle, hopefully, a swift death, or taken captive and slowly tortured to death. He had grieved for him, all these years, mourned the fact the last words he spoke to him had been hateful, and that he had never had the chance to say goodbye.  
Never told him that he loved him in so many words, never asked him to be his companion for life. Never did so many things he had wanted to do with him still.  
And now. Now he was here, looking at Fenris with those golden eyes, now full of sadness and a bit of confusion. His skinny hand lifted Fenris' so he could place a kiss on his knuckles.  
„Master Fenris. My husband. This one will serve you well.“  
Fenris' eyes shot up in alarm, finally taking in Anders' whole face. The sunburst brand on his forehead. Panic shot through him at the sight, but no, no, there were emotions in those eyes, there was feeling behind those words, surely it couldn't be...?  
There were feelings in those eyes, yes, but they showed no recognition.


	2. Long, Long Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris realises things are not going to be easy. He also gets a closer look at what Anders is like now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written this story up to chapter 5 now, and even though they are very short chapters, that's further than I ever got with a story before. The word sprints in the Weird Shit chat are really helping me write, and I hope that maybe I will be able to keep a weekly posting schedule at the rate that I am going from here. I don't want to promise too much though. 
> 
> Also, tags will be updated as I go~

„Anders.“  
The other man's eyes found his, and they looked completely blank.  
„Anders, do you not remember me?“ This just got him a shaking head and those beautiful, empty eyes turned towards the floor again.  
„I apologise. I do not remember Master Fenris.“  
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself, applying some of those silly breathing techniques Sebastian had shown him ages ago. He did not remember him. Did not remember their time together. Those wonderful years they had spent deeply, deeply in love. Did not remember the rest of their gang either, most likely.  
Before he could work himself into too much of a panic, Mother Petrice was suddenly standing beside them, smiling at him coldly. „Ser Fenris“, she spoke, even though everyone present was very well aware that he was not a Ser.  
„Your wife is a mage, as you might be aware by now. It was attempted to make him Tranquil, but something apparently went wrong. He has lost all memories prior to the Rite, but is still able to perform magic. We have ensured that he will be obedient though, and he is aware that the practice of magic outside of the Circles is strictly forbidden. As his lord husband, you are now in charge of him and will be held responsible should he ever break the law.“ With a smirk that distorted her face into something very ugly, she then bowed to him and retreated, leaving them alone with just their friends.  
„Anders. My mage.“ Fenris' voice was filled with desparation. Anders flinched and glanced at Fenris for a split second. „I will be a good mage, Master Fenris“, came the whispered admission. „I will not embarrass Master Fenris. I will not use magic. I will obey Master Fenris, serve Master Fenris. I will follow all the rules, do everything Master Fenris tells me to. My only goal is to make my husband and Master happy. I will be a good mage.“  
It sounded like a mantra, repeated again and again until it had become second nature to him, until it was all he knew. It seemed he really had no recollection of him, or he would know that such a kind of pledge only served to push Fenris away, not to assure him.  
His first reflex was to push him away, to step away and tell him he did not need a slave, that he could not deal with that. Maybe Hawke could take him home, or Aveline. But he knew that he could not do it. He was the one who had pushed Anders away, had allowed for him to be taken into the Gallows, had let him go, had not looked for him. It was partly his doing, his fault that Anders was like this now, so he would have to care for him now. Take him in, feed him, and see if maybe, maybe there was something left of the old Anders in him, something that they could dig out under all the obedience and servitude that had been indoctrinated on the mage.  
But first... „You are not Tranquil?“  
A tiny, almost invisible shrug followed. „They tell me I am not, Master Fenris. They say I still show too much emotion for that. Mages are not supposed to have emotions, mages are only there to serve. But... I know I still dream, Master Fenris.“ The mage looked down, seemingly ashamed by this admission. „Master Fenris is free to punish me for this transgression as he sees fit, of course.“  
A shudder ran through Fenris at this, and he looked up at his friends helplessly, only to receive just as helpless stares in return. When they had come here to watch Fenris get married, this was certainly not what they had expected. How could they, they had all believed that Anders was long since dead, torn apart and never to be seen again.  
Now not even Isabela looked like she wanted to throw a party anymore.  
He sighed, and gently took his husband's arm again. „Anders. You are my husband, not my slave. I will not punish you for being yourself. Not for dreaming, not for showing emotions.“ He gave his friends a shaky smile and reached over to take his sword from Aveline. Maybe it was time for them to just go home. Once his sword was situated safely on his back again (despite his festive clothing) he linked his hand together with Anders'.  
„Allow me to take you home, my husband.“ The mage just nodded, eyes lowered and ready to be led away like a lamb to slaughter, not like a much loved husband. And then Fenris, brash, prickly Fenris found himself pulling his husband into a hug, standing on his tiptoes and wrapping one arm around Anders' head and the other around his shoulders.  
„It will be alright, Anders. If there is any of the old you still left in there, anything at all... I will find it. I will find you, Anders, and I will bring you back to me. I will fight for you and court you and I will keep you safe, like I have failed to do for so long.“  
The eyes that stared back at him when he pulled back where full of confusion, but... confusion was an emotion, maybe? He really just hoped that he would be able to get his Anders back to him. For now, he had to keep him safe, and get some food into him.  
„Orana made us some dinner to celebrate our wedding, it will be waiting for us at home“ he informed his spouse before nodding at his friends without a word, knowing they'd understand, and leading Anders out of the chantry, towards his... towards their home.


	3. What's In An Emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris finds out about some of the things Anders has been 'taught' at the Circle. He certainly did not imagine his wedding night to go like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny spoiler alert: I have written this fic up to chapter 8 now and it is still only angst. I know I will reach the turning point soon where things will start to go upwards, but in case you're hoping for things to get well soon.... you might have to wait a bit for that. I enjoy hurting the darlings too much^^;

Once they were home, Fenris let out an almost inaudible sigh. At least now they were out of the public, in the safety of their own home. Anders would be safe here, as long as he didn't leave the mansion too often, and he would not be supervised by the Chantry anymore. In here, no one would punish him if he dreamed, if he had an opinion, if he used magic. In contrast, it would be encouraged.  
At that thought, Fenris almost laughed out loud. Him, encouraging magic? He'd never thought he'd see the day. He'd never thought he'd see Anders again either. He'd never thought he'd feel like there were butterflies inside him again.  
And yet... when he looked at Anders, at that hollow, pale and empty face, he could feel them again, and he knew he was lost. He had thought he hated the mage, resented him for what he had done, but now that he had him back... he knew he loved him still, at least in some capacity. He knew he would not be back to sharing hot kisses and even hotter nights with the mage, but that did not matter.  
Not that Anders would be in any kind of form to even know if he still felt for Fenris anytime soon anyway. Apparently, he could not even remember the elf. What would he say if Fenris tried to apologize for the hurtful things he had said to him when they last saw each other? Probably just 'yes, Master Fenris' and a look of confusion...  
„Are you hungry?“ he asked, already walking to the kitchen and not quite paying attention to what Anders was doing until he turned around to look at him.  
The mage was naked.  
And he looked horrible. Thin, much too thin, with black and purple bruises all over him, and then some mellowing green and yellow ones. There were so many scars and fresh cuts that there seemed to be more of them than unharmed skin, and he seemed to be sore almost everywhere. Fenris clenched his jaw and blinked away some of the wetness in his eyes.   
„Anders... why did you undress?“ he asked, raising an eyebrow. Again, there was only a confused look he got in return.  
„Mages are not allowed to wear clothing inside“ he stated matter-of-factly. „And it is our wedding night, and Master Fenris might wish to consummate our marriage at any point. A mage should always be ready for his master. I am a good mage.“  
Fenris closed his eyes, concentrated on just breathing for a while. Just breathe. Just breathe. He had to fight the urge to storm out of the mansion this very second and walk up to Meredith and wrench her heart out of her chest. How could he have let it get this far? How could he not have seen that this was what was happening? What Anders had always talked about? He had been so blind. He would need to apologize to his mage, to try and make up for everything he had done wrong these years. For all the times he failed him. But now... first things first.  
„This is my house, Anders. Our house, now. You can do in here as you like. But it is quite cool at the moment, so please do dress yourself again lest you catch a cold?“ With him being underweight like that, Fenris didn't even want to think about what a simple cold could do to him. „And please, I am your husband now, not your owner. I am not your Master. I am... just Fenris.“  
That got him a little nod from the mage as he shuffled to retreive his clothing. Fenris assumed that it was brand new, given to him only for the ceremony of the wedding. Even Meredith probably couldn't afford marrying mages off in torn rags, or even naked. But he assumed that maybe one day she would just start doing it anyway. Considering how Anders looked that little bit of humiliation would hardly make a difference anymore.  
„Are you hungry, Anders?“ He asked, trying to keep his voice as friendly as possible. Anders did not need to know about his inner turmoils yet. Didn't need to know they had been lovers, didn't need to know Fenris pushed him away, yet still loved him deeply. Didn't need to know he was the one that exploded the Chantry. Didn't need to know about their friends just yet. These things could still come in time, taught to him slowly as they went. For now, he had to get him to relax and make sure he stayed healthy. Or got healthy again in the first place. So he would just be kind to him, smile and act as if nothing was much amiss.   
Anders came shuffling back into the kitchen and Fenris smiled as he placed a big plate of the food that Orana had made before him. She had explained to him what it was, something celebratory, fancy and festive, but he had already forgotten, and it tasted like ash in his mouth as he took the first bites. He looked up then to see that Anders had not even touched his own food yet.   
„Are you not hungry, dear?“ he asked him, and again was only met with a shrug.   
„Mages are not allowed to eat unless their master tells them to. But Master Fenris said that Master Fenris is not master....“ His face was twisting, and he seemed awfully tense, and it took the elf a moment to decipher what it was that he was seeing there.  
It was distress. Anders was in distress.  
Anders was showing an emotion. A real emotion.  
There was a sound, and only after Anders looked up at him with a questioning gaze did he realise that it had come from his own lips, a weird mix between a sob and a laugh. Anders was distressed, that meant he was really, really not a Tranquil. Without thinking, he reached over and took the mage's hand in his.   
„I'm just glad you can still feel, Anders. That... that even through everything you still have the chance to be you again.“   
He remembered the day so well when Anders had been forced to kill the one who had held his heart at that time, and later, one night, as Anders had asked him to do the same for him should he ever be given the Rite. He had given him a dagger that night, and Fenris still carried it on his person at all times. Just in case. But he would not have to use it now, and he only realised now what a big relief that was.


	4. A Good Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is a good mage. He really really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this is late, our wifi has been gone for most of the week so far so I was unable to post^^;  
> Enjoy some more of the angst~

It seemed though that his own confusion and his reaction to Anders had not reassured the mage at all. He was looking more distressed by the minute rather than the other way around. Fenris took a deep breath and smiled at him again, pushing the mage's plate closer to him.

„No, I am not your master, that is true. But I am your husband now, so you don't need to answer to the Chantry anymore. It is me that you answer to now, and I say you do not need a master anymore. You don't have a master anymore. You are a free mage now. And if you wish to eat, you can.“

Apparently that had not been the right thing to say, as Anders just stared at him in absolute horror. „Free mage?“ he whispered, then pushed his chair back and fell to his knees beside Fenris.

„Please, no! I will be good, I will do everything Master Fenris the husband says, I will obey, I will follow, I will be good, I will take any punishment. I will not make demands of Master Fenris, I will not inconvenience Master Fenris with my existence. I will work hard to make Master Fenris' life better. Please, I will be good! I am not a free mage, please! Please, I will do anything!“

There were tears running down Anders' cheeks, and Fenris found himself on his knees next to him, drawing his distressed mage into his arms. „Anders, darling... Anders. It is all alright. You are safe here. You are safe and I will protect you. No one will hurt you here. It is okay.“ He didn't even know what he was saying, just blathered on with sweet nothings until he felt the shaking mage in his arms slowly calm down from shaking like a leaf to just trembling a little.

„Why do you not wish to be free?“ he asked, gently carding his hand over Anders' tangled, matted hair.

„Free mages are not good mages. Good mages are obedient. Good mages have a master. Free mages... free mages...“ he shuddered and bit his lip until it bled. „Free mages do blood magic. Free mages don't know the right way. Good mages are not free, good mages are obedient. Good mages know that master's way is always the right way. I am a good mage. I am a good mage.“

A good mage. That seemed to be something that had been thoroughly ingrained into him in his time in wherever he had been. Fenris assumed that he had been kept in the dungeons somewhere in the Gallows. His poor mage probably had had to endure another time of solitary. And look what that had done to him.

„You are a very good mage, Anders. But good mages who know what is right and what is wrong may also be free, for they will not stray from their path as long as their will remains strong.“ He looked down at the thin little figure in his lap, the shaking pile of skin and bones that had once been his moon and stars, his sunshine and light of his life. How much, he wondered, how much of the Anders that he had known was still in there, and would he be able to uncover it again? Would it be wise to even try it, or was this tortured oblivion a mercy for Anders' soul, that he did not have to remember his life before, maybe not remember all of the tortures he had been through, not remember what he had been like before and that what he was now had been his worst nightmare?

Later, when they were both lying in bed, Fenris realised he could not recall how they had gotten there. He just knew that everything had been going in such tiny steps. Getting food into Anders had been very labour intensive, and in the end he had only eaten a few bites, claiming that good mages only ate the scraps and not 'master's food'. It had almost sent Fenris into a fit, making him remember the times that he had cowered at Danarius' feed, nearly delirious with hunger, hoping that his master would be kind enough to maybe feed him as much as half a bite of lettuce or some nearly inedible scraps.

He did not like that Anders had been pushed to think like that now, not one bit. Anders should be treasured, pampered, spoiled, loved beyond measure. He should be carried on hands and fed only the best foods, he should have a little chubby tummy that everyone would be envious of, and he should not know pain and hurt.

He looked at the mage that was lying next to him, squeezed to the very edge of the mattress after he had suffered another panic attack over the fact that 'Master Fenris' wanted him in his bed, for _sleeping_ , but did not want to have sex with him. But there was no way he would let his Anders sleep on the floor, and no way he was going to have sex with him in this state either. He couldn't even know if Anders even knew what consent was in his current state, nevermind be able to give it.

He sighed and turned his back on the mage, closing his eyes. Of all the outcomes he had imagined from his wedding day, this was not it. „Goodnight, mage“ he murmured, but did not wait for a reciprocation before willing himself into sleep.

He opened his eyes, and from the way his skin crawled, everything seemed a bit fuzzy and green-tinged, he could tell exactly where he was. This was the Fade. Or more exactly, the Gallow's courtyard's equivalent in the Fade.

And before him, there was.... something. It looked faintly like a knight in armour, but... distorted, somehow? Hurt, broken?

„Who are you?“ he demanded, instead of asking the obvious, for whoever that demon was to leave him alone. He would not succumb to possession!

The demon inclined his head towards him and remained silent for a while before speaking in that eerie quality that all Fade beings seemed to possess. „ **You are with Anders now.** “ A simple statement, and yet it revealed so much about who he was talking to. The mage's pet demon.

„I am. I see you have finally left him alone.“ He crossed his arms, as if to shield himself from the demon... from Justice.

„ **They tried to make him Tranquil. It was not just. He has fought hard, done many good things for the mages. I know it was his deepest fear, and I could not let him suffer such a fate. I took it upon me to save him from it, and through that, we became separated**.“ He stared at Fenris, and his gaze was intense, as if he was looking straight through him.

„ **Anders deserves Justice. He has been wronged, and deserves justice for the way he has been treated. It will be upon you to take vengeance.** “

Fenris tilted his head and looked him up and down, not reacting to the other's words. „Who are you?“ he asked again, his brow furrowing in frustration.

„ **I do not know** “ was the answer that he got after a few moments of silence. „ **I was a Spirit of Justice once, before I merged with Anders. Together, we became Vengeance. And now... now It have been twisted and torn, and I am both Justice and Vengeance and yet I am neither. I saved Anders and thus destroyed myself. It was the Just thing to do. But now, taking vengeance is up to you. Fenris.** “ The being inclined his head again, and then, he was gone, leaving Fenris standing alone and confused.

What had just happened?

 


	5. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders thinks Fenris is a mage... or something like that, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have started taking part in a course to further qualify myself in order to get a job, and that is taking much more out of me than expected... my energy levels are really low most evenings and afternoons these days, so I'm taking a bit longer to write, which means updates will be taking longer as well. I'm hoping to get faster again once I am a bit more acclimatised with suddenly being up and about all day again.  
> Also, for those of you who asked: I'm far from knowing where this story will lead, I only know where it will end, but I'm already thinking about a companion piece to this, from Anders' perspective. I'd love to explore the point of the 'good mage' and the other very important thing that I'll introduce in the next chapter ( ;P ) from his point of view, and to maybe see how he got to be how he is now. Switching POVs at this point would feel weird though, but who knows, maybe Anders will start to talk at some point~ It probably depends on his willingness to open up and my ability to write torture xD

The next morning found Fenris wrapped around a rather warm source of heat in his bed, and he sighed happily. He loved it when Anders had not gone to the clinic yet by the time that Fenris woke up. He loved their lazy mornings in bed when they would cuddle and kiss and sometimes have lazy, happy sex before they had to get up. He smiled and slid his hand further down, over Anders' smooth chest to – he jumped when his hand only touched knotted scars instead of the expected smooth skin, and his eyes flew open to take in the sight before him as his recollection of the last night came back to him.

Anders was still alive. Anders was his husband now. Anders also believed Fenris to be his Master and did not remember anything before the failed attempt to make him Tranquil. … And Justice had saved him.

He sighed and shook his head even as he pushed himself up on an elbow to look at his husband. Anders was awfully tense... but that meant he was awake at least? „Good morning“ Fenris rumbled, causing Anders to jump and practically launch himself out of bed.

„I will have breakfast ready for Master Fenris, I am a good mage“ he murmured before just about racing out of the door. Well.

Fenris sighed and peeled himself out of bed as well, feeling cold and icky now that his sweet morning fantasy had been flushed away by a metaphorical bucket of ice water. He walked over to his bathing chamber where he proceeded to wash himself and put on a fresh tunic and leggings before he walked out to find out where the mage had run off to. There was no food in the house so it was beyond him how Anders wanted to make breakfast. Wine was not a suitable thing to have for breakfast, he had been told, and that was about what he had in the house, and nothing else.

He found Anders in the kitchen, curled up in a corner, muttering to himself and kneading his fingers. Something was amiss again, it seemed. Fenris walked over, careful not to be too quiet as he did not want to disturb his mage too much.

„What is it, Anders?“ he asked, crouching down in front of him. When the mage looked up, his amber eyes were filled with tears.

„I am a good mage! I'm a good mage, I will make breakfast for Master Fenris. I will please Master Fenris, I will make Master Fenris happy, I-“ Fenris sighed and sat down next to him, right on the ground, and pulled the mage's hand into his own lap where he started to pet it.

„Will you listen to me, Anders? I want to tell you something.“ The mage looked at him as if he wanted to disappear into the ground in fear, but he nodded.

„I knew you, before... before they tried to give you the Rite. We had known each other for almost a decade at that point. And... when I got to know you, I was a lot like you are now, only that I always hid it and tried to pretend I was doing okay and that I knew that the business with being free is all about. But I didn't. I had no idea, and I felt so lost, without guidance, without a way to learn. I knew I didn't want to go back to my Master, but that life was all I knew. And then there was you. You took my hand, like I am doing now, and you... you showed me. You taught me. All I know about life as it should be is because of you, Anders. And now you are the one in need, and I will do my best to teach you in return. I will show you what life should be like, my mage. It will take a lot of time, I know that, but it will be alright.“

Anders was blinking at him, tilting his head and frowning a little. „Master Fenris was... a mage? A good mage?“ He seemed to have troubles grasping that concept, and Fenris shook his head. „I am not a mage. But I was a slave and had my free will taken from me without realising it. I had large parts of my memory taken away. I was not a good mage, as you say, but I was a good little slave. I was just like you are now, without magic.“

That still did not seem to make sense to the mage at all. Fenris could almost hear him thinking, why would someone who is not a mage be treated like this?

„Where I am from, anyone without magic is treated as something less than the mages. It is not uncommon for some of those to be enslaved. My master used me for experimentation. That is why I am still marked with the lyrium in my skin. He taught me all about how to be a good slave.“

He internally sighed when this did not seem to ring any bells with Anders. „What is a slave, Master Fenris?“

„A slave is.... like what you are now, someone that always has to obey and isn't allowed to make any demands of their master.“ That got him a knowing nod then. „So a slave is like a mage but without magic then, Master Fenris?“

The elf just sighed and gave a nod. „Yes. Something like that.“ He came a little closer to see what Anders was doing. „Will you let me help you? Help you undo what has been done to you? Help you learn to make your own decisions again?“

The mage seemed to be positively scandalized by the very notion of that. „But... but they just made sure that I would be a good mage... a good mage for my Master Husband. I want to be good, I want to be good for Master Fenris. I will be a good mage, I will-“

„I know“ Fenris disrupted him, placing a gentle hand on Anders' arm. „You are and will be a very good mage. It simply seems that my idea of what a good mage is differs from what they say it is. Will you let me teach you my way?“

He watched as Anders considered that, seemingly turning it over and over again in his head before nodding. „Master Fenris is in charge now, and I will be good for Master Fenris. Please, show me your way?“

Fenris nodded and allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. Maybe he would just have to coax Anders into listening to him, manipulate him out of his shell a little. Not that he was good at manipulating, but maybe Hawke or Varric would be able to give him some hints.

„Thank you. First lesson: Do not address me as your master. I am your husband, not your owner.“ That got him a solemn nod from the mage. „Of course, Husband Fenris.“

Well. It seemed like this would take a while.

 


	6. Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders gets a bit dirty, and his reaction to that is not what Fenris expected.   
> Please be aware that there will be self harm in this chapter, and that Anders is still Very Much Not In His Right Mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that so far this has been my favourite chapter... The idea for it originally comes from another fic of mine that I started to write but never continued or posted, so for this one I figured that the concept of the 'dirty mage' that Anders has here would fit in perfectly, so I'm combining the two ideas into one fic. I hope you enjoy it~

„What are you even making there?“ Fenris asked and stepped a little closer, peeking into the pot that Anders had been stirring in when he came in. It turned out that he was reheating some of last night's soup leftovers for breakfast. He knew that the mage could cook better than just reheating things, but it would not do to point that out right now. He probably didn't even remember it, and if he did he would be too scared to go to the market alone with Fenris' permission or something like that.

„It looks good.“ Was all Fenris said on the matter then before moving to sit at the table and wait for Anders to finish. No need giving him another almost panic attack by trying to help him and making him think he wasn't working enough for his 'Master Fenris'.

Once the soup was on the table and steaming, Fenris urged Anders to sit down as well, take a bowl and a spoon and have some soup. Anders seemed to think that he was supposed to survive on air alone. That explained why he was so abominally thin, though. He probably didn't get much more while being in the Templars' less than tender mercy.

„You've got a little dirt there“ Fenris pointed out, indicating the spot where Anders had splashed a little on his own cheek.

„---Dirt?“ Anders sprang up at that, almost making his bowl clatter to the floor, and he ran off, leaving a rather confused Fenris behind. He did not know what he had done to make him race off like that. He had just meant to indicate a bit of the stew that was sticking to the mage's cheek.

He got up and slowly went after the mage, going after the sound of splashing water that he was hearing from the bathing chambers upstairs. Maybe they had trained the mage to be very cleanly so he wouldn't run around his husband's house dirty?

He pushed the door open and stepped in, and there was his healer indeed, kneeling in front of the tub and scrubbing furiously at his face, arms and hands at seemingly random intervals. Now this was curious, as he had only had a little bit stuck to his cheek that could have easily been just wiped away with a sleeve or a cloth.

„Mage?“ He asked, stepping a bit closer to where the man was kneeling, but he only received a stifled sob in return. Concerned now, he stepped closer, and saw that Anders was holding a rough brush, with bristles made to clean shoes and leather, not skin, and was scrubbing enough to wear away at his own skin so hard that some blood was mixing with the water he was using.

„Mage. Stop this!“ Anders did not seem to hear him, and only now did Fenris realise he was actually muttering, talking to himself as he went.

„Dirty mage. Dirty, dirty mage with dirty magic in his body. Has to be a good mage, good mage, clean mage for Master Fenris. Master-- Husband Fenris. Clean mage, good mage for Husband Fenris. Such a dirty, dirty, stupid mage, can't even address Husband Fenris properly. Dirty mage! Dirty, dirty slut! Dirty whore! Has to get clean for Husband Fenris, has to be good and clean and proper, a good mage, clean mage. Magic has to get out, dirty magic has to be gone, has to be clean...“ He sobbed then and still kept scrubbing at his skin until Fenris reached over and pried the brush from his fingers.

„Anders. Cease this. Immediately.“ He had barely raised his voice, but it seemed to register with the mage nonetheless, especially since his brush was missing now, and he looked up at Fenris with a blotched face. „I am so sorry. I will be a good mage, will be a clean mage. I will keep cleaning until all the dirt is gone. I will be good for Husband Fenris, I promise! I promise! I can be good, I can be clean, I... I...“

Fenris tossed the brush aside and knelt next to the mage, taking his skinny hands in his own calloused ones. „You are very clean already, my mage. I did not mean to imply that anything is wrong with you.“ He wetted a hand in the water and then used it to wipe across Anders' cheek once.

„You just had a little piece of potato stuck there, that is all.“

Anders was still looking at him as if he would unleash a major punishment on him at any moment, and Fenris just sighed. He had sighed much too often in the hours since his wedding. Patching Anders back up or even just taking care of him would be a major task, and he did not know if he was up to it. He tried to appear unfazed and at ease on the outside, but he knew he could only keep that facade up for so long.

He had loved Anders, that was true, but he did not know if he could live with this Anders. But he knew that after all that he had done, that he had let happen he owed it to Anders, to their memory and time together to at least try.

„Anders, please go sit on the bed, will you. I will be with you shortly.“

When he entered the main room a little while later after taking a few moments to compose himself and grab some bandages he did find Anders at the bed, but kneeling in front of it rather than sitting on it. Well, at least he was not trying to rub his own skin off anymore.

Maybe, he thought bitterly, maybe it would have been kinder on him to be made Tranquil after all.

He walked over and carefully knelt next to the bed, gently taking one of Anders' scratched open arms in his hands. „What makes you think that you are dirty, Anders?“

The mage just shrugged and looked to the side. „Magic is evil, and dirty. Magic is a sin in the eyes of the Maker. My Lord Husband Fenris should not be forced to be near magic. I should be a good mage, should get rid of the magic. The magic is a curse and Husband Fenris has to be near it now, it makes me dirty, too dirty to serve Husband Fenris right... I should be good for Husband Fenris, should be clean...“

„But you are clean, mage“ Fenris told him as he carefully cleaned the areas that were scrubbed raw and bloody and started wrapping his arms in the bandages. „You are very clean. I know you washed last night. And the magic is nothing that makes you dirty. Magic is not dirty, it is simply... a part of you.“ He swallowed, still not quite comfortable with magic, but he knew that his Anders had never used his magic in the wrong ways, that he had always just strived to heal people, and to right too many of the wrongs in the world.

„You are a very good man, Anders, and I do not like to see you harmed. You have been hurt enough, please refrain from harming yourself as well.“ He kissed the mage's hand and took his other arm to bandage it as well.

„A good man?“ That concept, like so many other things, seemed to confuse Anders. „I am but a servant, Husband Fenris. The reason for my being is to serve you, to make you happy, ease your life. I am just a mage, I should not feel, nothing apart the duty to serve you and be good for you.“

As he listened to the mage, Fenris finished wrapping the second arm and stood, taking Anders' face in his hands and looking at him. „No, Anders. You are a man, and you are my husband now. Bonded to me for life, so we shall love and cherish each other. You shall make me happy just like I shall make you happy, my mage.“ He leaned forward and placed a barely there kiss on the other's forehead.

„You should feel. I would like it if you learned to let yourself feel again. You always felt everything so deeply, my mage. Whether it was happiness or sadness, it was always so intense for you. And you loved your freedom so much.... more than almost anything. I hope I can take you back there... make you feel like that again.“

Anders was looking at him now, having barely reacted to the kiss apart from widening his eyes. Fenris could read in his face that he was probably thinking about how Fenris had just dirtied his own lips by deigning to touch the dirty, worthless mage with them. He forced something akin to a smile on his lips and sat down next to the mage again. He knew this would need time, but it hurt, and it hurt to not be able to show how concerned and shocked he was.

 


End file.
